


And to you

by seiden_spinner



Category: Will (TV 2017)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluffy Ending, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 10:26:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13432749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seiden_spinner/pseuds/seiden_spinner
Summary: They go to see Richard III, and its success turns out to be more stressful for a certain playwright than he's willing to show.





	And to you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moreevskaya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moreevskaya/gifts).



> Written per request for some comforting stuff for the best kids in London.
> 
> Your feedback is muuuuch appreciated, so don't be shy to drop a line. I hope you enjoy the reading!

That was a bad idea, Thomas thinks as he watches Kit walking by his side, quiet and sullen. What was he thinking when he offered someone recently back from a dark place to go see his rival’s play? Well, he sort of hoped the play turns out to be much ado about nothing, and yet he should have known better.

‘Will a drink and a company lift your mood?’

‘I’m done with mingling for tonight, so I have to decline your most gracious offer.’

‘Are you sure about that? You seem a little …’

‘I’m fine, Tommy. Let’s just go home.’

As soon as they are at Marlowe’s place and the door is shut, his back gets a close acquaintance with the hallway wall, Kit’s hands all over him.

He knows what that means. He’s been there and seen that too many times not to. When Christopher bless-his-heart Marlowe is upset he drinks. When he is distraught he swives. The storm brewing under Kit’s eyelashes, the blaze in his eyes, his chapped lips – everything about him is just screaming lust, and Thomas himself wants nothing more than to surrender, God knows he does.

But what he also knows is that, after everything Christopher has recently been through, now is not the time. Old habits die hard, and he of all people will not help keep Kit’s alive.

With that in mind, Thomas braces himself and gently pushes the other man back.

‘It has been a long day,’ he says, pressing his palm firmly to Christopher’s chest. ‘You should better lie down now.’

‘I’m trying to, Tommy. Amazed I am you haven’t noticed that yet.’

‘That’s not what I mean. I’m talking about rest that doesn’t involve both of us panting and sweating.’

‘Oh, come now,’ Kit leans forward, placing his thigh right between Thomas’ legs. ‘Something down there tells me you don’t mean it.’

‘But I do!’ he all but laments, struggling to regain his composure. Old habits die hard, indeed, and he seems to have his fair share to break as well. ‘You need to rest!’

‘Well, fine then!’ The thigh retreats swiftly with the rest of Christopher, obviously hurt now. Fuming, he storms across the hallway, heading to, as far as Thomas can tell, his bedroom. ‘Show yourself out if you so desire!’

He sighs and pinches his nose bridge. Oh, Christopher. So much for ‘I’m stronger now.’

The next half an hour he spends rekindling the fire in the fireplace and trying to clean the mess of the hall – and all that to the sounds of crashing and tearing behind Kit’s bedroom door upstairs. When they quiet down, he heads there.

The room lies in ruins. In the middle there is Kit sitting on the floor at the foot of his bed and burying his face in his hands. As far as dim candle light allows Thomas to see, his knuckles are bruised and bloody.

‘Do you need me to walk you out?’ Christopher asks in a hoarse voice; when he raises his head Thomas can see the pain written all over his face.

‘No,’ he answers softly as he drops to his knees in front of Kit. ‘I’m not leaving you to deal with this alone.’

‘That’s very generous of you but I’m sure I can handle it myself. Now go, pay a good nephew’s visit to your uncle or whatever else it is you need to do.’

It takes him a moment and a stifled laugh to make the decision. Then he reaches out and dabs the tip of Kit’s nose with his index finger.

‘What is that you are doing?’ asks the latter, his eyes widening in surprise.

‘I thought I saw the diamond shell glittering, so I decided to check. It would be a pity if you turned all cold and hard again. I’m glad you didn’t.’

He sees the glitter now but it’s not the one of diamonds. It is the one of tears welling in those wide eyes he loves. He takes Christopher’s hands into his and gently kisses the knuckles.

‘There’s nothing wrong with you being upset about that play of his. I’m here for you, so please talk to me, this is all I ask.’

‘And since when have you become so sharp?’ retorts Kit instantly but his spite is put-upon – of that Thomas is pretty sure. ‘You could at least have told me, I’d toast to that.’

‘Let’s pretend I just did. And you can toast to that all you want, once we tend to your bruises and you get it off your chest.’

By way of answer, Kit sniffs softly, and he takes it as a ‘yes’.

They spend the rest of the night talking, crying (because it breaks Thomas’ heart to see his dearest one crying, and there’s nothing wrong with that, too), and then fixing the havoc in the bedroom. When everything is done they’re too tired to think, let alone to drink, so they postpone it for later. First thing in the morning, mumbles Kit sleepily against the pillow, we’ll toast to you first thing in the morning. Thomas plants a kiss on his forehead and smiles.

‘And to you.’


End file.
